


The 5 Times Beka Didn’t Say What He Wanted to Say, And the One Time He Did

by alynnamador



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Arman is my OC, Broken Heart, DJ Otabek Altin, Future Fic, Heartbreak, I accidentally love him, I'll come up with more tags at some point, M/M, Otabek's POV, Profanity, Snapchat, Unrequited Love, Yuri is Vulgar, post breakup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 02:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10844925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynnamador/pseuds/alynnamador
Summary: Otabek struggles to find peace after Yuri breaks up with him. He's got a million things he wants to say, but ultimately decides against it.Except for that one time.





	1. After One Week

The plane ride from Almaty, Kazakhstan to St Petersburg, Russia was almost 5 hours long, and Otabek sat completely still in complete silence for the entirety of it. An unusual feat for the DJ. He declined any refreshments and dolefully ignored any attempt at conversation from the woman sitting next to him. He stared, numbly, out the window as hundreds of kilometers passed below him in minutes as those minutes passed to hours.

When he finally arrived, he hailed a taxi and within several minutes, he was standing on the doorstep of one Nikolai Plisetsky. Otabek lifted his hand to knock and dropped it again, the lump in his throat choking him as he attempted to breathe, trying with little success to fight back another wave of tears. 

_ I’m sorry, Beka. _

_ But I don’t want to lose you, Beka.  _

_ I wonder if we could still be friends. _

Just one week earlier, Yuri had broken up with him over FaceTime.

The conversation took two hours of Otabek trying to avoid it but in the end, Yuri had been successful. Beka couldn’t remember what it felt like to breathe easily, couldn’t remember what he used to do in between sets in a club, and during breaks at the ice rink before he was texting and talking to Yuri. He tried to scroll through social media, but Yuri’s face was at every turn. He tried to read a book, but the first one he picked up in the used book store was one Yuri suggested to him months ago. 

Otabek knocked on the door before he could talk himself out of it and took a step back as he could hear the light thud of feet running through the house calling “I’ll get the door, Grandpa!” In heavily Russian accented English. The door swung open inward and expectant blue-green eyes met his gaze before the expression changed from curious to unmasked surprise.

And that unmasked surprise quickly fell into something much more grave and guarded.

“Beka. What are you doing here?” Yuri stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him.

Otabek hadn’t been ready to answer any questions. He didn’t know what he was doing, what he was hoping to accomplish by making this trip, and that only just now had occurred to him. 

“Yura,” Otabek’s voice cracking for its first use in over 7 hours. He cleared his throat. “Yuri. I was wondering if you’d walk with me.” 

Yuri was visibly hesitant. No one present thought this was a good idea, but they stood there in awkward silence before Yuri finally answered. 

“I’ll walk with you. Let me put on some shoes,” Yuri opened the door just enough for him to slide back inside before it clicked quietly shut again. Otabek stood there for long enough that he began to wonder if Yuri might have lied to him, but just moments after that, the door opened again. Yuri stepped back out, wearing a different shirt, a plain black shirt, where before he’d been wearing a purple shirt with a cat on it, and his hair was brushed pulled back, where before it had been tangled and messy atop his head. Otabek stood to the side and gestured for Yuri to leave the threshold before he followed and caught up to walk side by side. 

A long time passed before either of them spoke. It was late morning here in Russia and busy for a Sunday morning in a residential district. 

Yuri led the way into town and stopped in front of a small coffee shop and gestured, questioningly. Beka looked up at the hand painted sign, then back down to Yuri before nodding his head. Yuri led the way inside and they each ordered coffee. 

They spent an hour or so in the coffee shop, making small talk and talking about the news from home. Yuri announced that he was moving out of his grandfather’s house into a small apartment on the other side of town, within walking distance of Yakov’s rink. 

“I’ll be living with Victor and Katsudon” he said disdainfully, but still smiled into his coffee. 

Beka found it hard to make eye contact, always looking out the window as he was talking, and looking down at Yuri’s hands when Yuri was talking. As the coffee shop began to fill up in the early afternoon, Yuri suggested they leave to let someone else have the table. They waved farewell to the Barista and walked back out, shrouded in a slightly less tense awkward silence once again. 

“Beka. Why are you here?” Yuri asked again after some time in almost the same tense tone as he had just a little earlier. 

Otabek gaped in a way that made him feel like a fish, searching for the right words to say.  _ I’m so miserable _ , he thought,  _ Won't you please reconsider. Yura, I love you. Why does it have to be this way?  _ A million things he wanted to say, but instead,

“I just… needed to see you face to face.” He admitted. It was the truth. 

Yuri stopped, standing in the middle of a street and drew a deep, ragged breath. “Oh, Beka,” he said sadly. “I’m so sorry, but my decision it… hasn’t changed.” 

“I’m not here to beg for you to take me back.” Otabek was quick to defend his intentions. That might not have been the truth. “I just... Didn’t want the last time I saw you to be through the screen of my phone.” He didn't think his heart could be more broken, yet the words spilled from his mouth and shattered him more.

Yuri reached out and put a gentle hand on Otabek’s arm, less defined than a week ago, for lack of training and motivation to do much of anything. Otabek looked down at the hand, incredibly pale against his dark skin. “Beka, I didn’t want that either. I don’t want to lose you. You’re one of my best friends.” Otabek gently pulled his arm out from under Yuri’s hand, who let it fall to his side, his eyes cast sadly downward. 

“I don’t think I can do that, Yura.” Otabek deadpanned. 

“Beka-”

“I can’t, Yura. To be so close to the one you love, but still unable to be with them? We’ll never be the same. It’s not fair of you to ask that of me. And maybe it’s a little selfish, but I can’t put myself through that kind of endless heartache for you. Even if you did want to be together with me again, all this has already happened. However this,” Beka gestured between the two of them, “might be, it won’t ever be the same as it was before.” Otabek choked on the last couple of words and swallowed. 

“I understand.” Yuri whispered simply. “I’m sorry.” 

The pair of them stood awkwardly and quietly for a moment longer before Beka broke the silence. “Yura, I have to go.” 

Yuri opened his arms wide for a hug. Otabek hesitantly stepped into it. Yuri let Otabek hug him for much longer than was maybe acceptable, but he wanted to commit to memory the feeling of Yuri’s arms around him. He’d likely never have that feeling again.

“Goodbye, Beka. Let me know when you’ve gotten home safe.” Yuri turned and walked back in the direction of Nikolai's house. 

Otabek hailed another taxi, which took him back to the airport, and he got on the first available flight back to Almaty. 

As hard as it was for him not to, he didn’t text Yuri when he got home, and he was sure that he’d never speak to Yuri again. 


	2. After Several Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek learns who he'll be competing with in the Grand Prix series

The next several days became the next several weeks, and before long, several months passed since the last time Otabek had talked to Yuri. Suddenly, the Grand Prix series was upon him again. In the two years it had been since Victor and Katsuki retired, he and Yuri ruled the rink, and this season, in the local and semi-local competitions, had been no different. Otabek had several more gold and silver medallions to show for all his hard work. However, he had publicly announced just before the competitive season started that this would be his last.

At the time of his and Yuri’s break up, the news of it spread fairly quickly, which forced Otabek from lingering on social media for very long at any given point. So, when he announced his retirement, rumors flew alongside it, too: _“The Hero of Kazakhstan announces retirement shortly after break up! Could this be a coincidence?”_ In truth, he and Yuri had once talked about his retirement. All Otabek could do was hope that Yuri knew the decision to retire was not impacted by the break up.

Not entirely, anyway.

On the day that the assignments for the Grand Prix had been announced, Otabek had been out setting up for a gig he had later that night. His sister had texted him a couple times before he actually felt the phone vibrate in his pocket.

 

_14:36 Mahra Altin  
Otabek! _

_14:40 Mahra Altin  
Otabek!! _

_14:51 Mahra Altin  
BIG BROTHER _

_14:55 Me_  
_What do you want Mahra? I’m a little busy_

_14:56 Mahra Altin  
They announced assignments for the Grand Prix today. _

_14:56 Mahra Altin_  
_:|_

 

Otabek closed out of the messaging app and opened his calendar to see that today had been the day he marked for the GPF announcements. He almost forgot. He gently chewed at the inside of his lip and reopened the conversation with his sister.

 

_14:59 Me  
Ah. I forgot that was today. Did you look at the line up? _

_15:03 Mahra Altin  
Yeah. I did. _

_15:04 Mahra Altin  
Do you want me to say? Or do you want to read it on your own? _

 

Otabek’s stomach twisted as he looked at the uneasy emoji she sent, coupled with her unwillingness to just come out and tell him where he was going to be competing, and with whom. He had a feeling he already knew.

 

_15:05 Me  
I have a bad feeling I know what you’re about to tell me. Go ahead. _

_(...)_

_15:08 Mahra Altin  
You’re competing in France first… then in Japan. _

_15:08 Marha Altin  
With Yuri Plisetsky. _

 

Otabek read over and over the last two texts from his sister, seeing without comprehending. Then he closed out the messaging app and shut off his phone without replying to her.

 

* * *

 

 

For the next couple of days, Otabek tried, admittedly with some success, not to think about the Grand Prix assignments. Grateful for his family’s and rink mates’ understanding, he didn’t dread going to practice and going home. Everyone knew, but no one said or asked anything. He instead put his DJ-ing to the side and focused his energies into practicing harder, for longer, and it payed off. He almost always left the rink feeling confident; sure that this time, he’d win the gold for his country in the Grand Prix Final. It was an afternoon after another very successful day at the rink when he returned to his locker to see that he had 2 unread text messages.

Otabek’s stomach twisted. No one ever texted him or called him while he was practicing unless it was an emergency. He unlocked his phone and opened the messaging app, trying hard not to imagine what awful scenario he’d have to rush out of here to go help deal with.

 

 _**16:34 Yuri Plisetsky  
** _ _**P.S. It’s not far from Hasetsu, so Victor and Katsudon…** _

 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but a text message from Yuri certainly wasn’t it. Otabek felt his heart burn then shatter, and was momentarily surprised that there was still enough left of it to break. How many times had he begged the universe for Yuri to text him? To see his name pop up on the screen? How many nights did he lay awake typing something into that textbox, only to delete it and roll over?

Otabek looked at the unread text, his thumb hovering over it. He drew a deep breath and tapped the conversation. He had to mentally shift to English, as the entire text was typed in a strangely formal English voice that didn’t seem very ‘Yuri’ at all.

 

_16:30 Yuri Plisetsky  
Hi Beka. I know you probably don’t want to be hearing from me, so I’m sorry if this text is a bother to you. I saw the Grand Prix assignments. Forgive me for saying so, but I’m glad to see that we will meet in Japan! I know you’ve been working very hard on your skating. Until then, Davai!  _

_16:34 Yuri Plisetsky  
P.S. It’s not far from Hasetsu, so Victor and Katsudon are coming with me to the event. _

 

Otabek was shaking, reading the only words Yuri had said to him in months over and over until they stopped being words, and started being blurred symbols through the tears that welled painfully in his eyes. He drew a deep and shaking breath and sat down on the bench behind him, seeing “Davai! ” behind his eyelids each time he blinked, a fresh set of tears falling with each time.

His resolve and his desire, in equal parts, were warring over what to do next. Otabek tapped on the text box and switched to the English keyboard then stared at it, suddenly unable to recognize the English letters. Did he even speak this language?

 

_Yura. You could never be a bother to me. It’s very good to hear from you. I’ve missed you a lot, and I’m glad that we’ll be seeing each other in Japan. Hopefully we can talk some then? Until then, safe travels. Davai! |_

 

Otabek read over the words he’d typed out and nearly pressed “send” before he thought better of it.

 

_Yura. ~~You could never be a bother to me. It’s very good to hear from you. I’ve missed you a lot, and I’m so glad that we’ll be seeing each other in Japan. Hopefully we can talk some then?~~ Until then, safe travels. Davai. | _

 

He started typing again.

 

_Yura. It’s good to hear from you. Thanks. Until then, safe travels. Davai.|_

 

Otabek read over the new words he’d typed, resolve winning out over desire once again. Otabek hit “send” before he could think better of it, tossed his phone in his backpack and splashed some water on his face before he left the rink.

Over the next several hours, Otabek checked his phone compulsively but to his growing dismay, Yuri Plisetsky’s name never re-appeared on his screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm emotionally exhausted.  
> And yes I'm a day early, but I had a lot of time off this week.


	3. After Arriving in Japan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri and Otabek speak face to face for the first time in months.  
> Otabek is conflicted.

Otabek had several hours of a plane ride to sit with nothing but his thoughts. To say that he was anxious didn’t quite cover exactly how he felt. Anxious, yes. And nervous- a little tired.

And excited.

And that? That was what scared him the most.

Sure, he could say that he was nervous and excited about the competition. In fact, that was at least partially true. He worked hard to get where he was, and his performance in France made him feel good about making it to the Grand Prix final. But the bulk of his excitement stemmed from the possibility of seeing Yuri again, and possibly even talking to him. He’d be damned to ever admit that aloud, though.

Otabek politely accepted water from the flight attendant before pulling out his earbuds in a desperate attempt to give his mind some definitive direction that was away from the direction it was currently headed in.

He remembered Japan fondly, though he’d only ever been once before. In the two years that it had been since he last was here, the airport hadn’t changed much. Perhaps some of the stores and restaurants were different, but if that were true, he wouldn’t be able to say for certain. In fact, the surrounding city sights and sounds were all very similar to the way they had been, too. The thought both hurt him and made him nostalgic.

When Otabek arrived at the hotel, his coach and three of his rink mates were already there. He quickly scanned the lobby of the hotel, and internally deflated when he did not see or hear Yuri’s voice carrying across from the other side.

He headed to his coach, who gave him a room key. He and his rink mate and close friend, Arman, would be staying in a room together. Arman was a handsome man about a year and a half Otabek’s junior. Arman and his partner, Dana, were set to perform in the pair skating event happening the day after tomorrow.

“Will you be coming to cheer Dana and me on?” Arman asked once they had found their room and started to settle in. Otabek made a show of contemplating it before he was suddenly struck with a pillow to the chest. “Coach will be mad if you don’t go!”

“Of course I’m going to go,” Otabek chuckled through his words.

A comfortable silence fell on the room as they each set about their own busy work. Otabek unpacked his clothes for the next day and set his toiletries on the sink before he walked over to open the window to see that it was facing the front parking lot of the hotel. He stared for a long while hoping that, perhaps, he’d see a taxi pull up to drop off any familiar faces.

“You’ve aged several years over the past several weeks,” Arman said, pulling Otabek from his reverie. “This,” he waved a flourishing hand in Otabek’s direction “It’s not healthy.”

“What are you talking about?” Otabek pulled the curtains partly closed and turned back to  his friend. They had known each other nearly their whole lives. It was Arman, in fact, who got Otabek into the DJing profession to begin with.

“You’re staring out that window in hopes that you’ll see Plisetsky get out of one of those cabs, aren’t you?” Otabek felt his face get hot, but didn’t answer. “Otabek, you _need_ to move on.” Arman begged.

Otabek swallowed, with no words to offer in response or in defence of himself. He was electrically aware of how unhealthy this behavior was. The silence that fell between them this time was much less comfortable, but not tense. They looked at one another for a long time before Arman pulled his shirt over his head and his pants off to be only in boxers.

“We should go to bed. It’s going to be a long next several days.”

 

* * *

 

The only reason Otabek knew for certain that Yuri, Katsuki and Victor had arrived in Japan was because of the multitude of instagram posts that the three of them made. But they went to Hasetsu first. Otabek closed out of instagram and finished his breakfast before he and his rink mates were taxied over to the rink for practice.

Otabek’s practice was incredibly productive, in spite of the fact that it started rough. When he over rotated his first jump, and fell out of his second one of the morning, he suddenly felt like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Don’t let competition nerves get the best of you!” His coach told him when he stopped for water. “You still have a couple days, so don’t let it get to you.” Otabek nodded and looked back out at the ice, privately acknowledging that it wasn’t competition that was making him anxious.

He took a deep breath, another swig of water, and headed back out on the ice, determined not to let his hurt and disappointment shine through here in this place, at this competition.

Just this morning, he saw a tweet by one of Yuri’s fans: **_“@YuriPlisetsky How do you think you and Otabek will perform?_** **_This will be the first time you’ve seen each other since the break up, right?”_** It was insufferably rude and forward of that fan, but he’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t wondered the same thing. And Yuri didn’t entertain the question, but Otabek wondered if Yuri had those same thoughts.

Still, after he cleared his head and shook off the ache of his first fall, Otabek excelled in practice for the next hour and a half; Landing his jumps flawlessly, and even trying to channel Katsuki when going over his step sequence. Two years out of the competitive profession, but he was still one the every commentator and judge compared step sequences to. Otabek felt grateful that he had the chance to learn from Katsuki before he retired.

As if Otabek’s thoughts had summoned him here by magic, the doors to the rink opened, and Katsuki, followed closely by Victor, stepped in and the automatic doors shut behind them again. All productivity on the ice ceased. Younger skaters oohed and awed at the pair of them. Victor, especially, was still something like a legend, even after so long into retirement. And Katsuki, for all his consistent inconsistency, had managed to dethrone Victor into a silver metal just once, but it was enough that he lived as a legend himself.

 _An interesting tension that had caused at home_ , Otabek remembered with an amused smile on his face. Only a handful of moments passed before he was struck with the realization that, if they were here, then Yuri surely was too. He turned to see Arman watching him with an apologetic expression, then turned to his coach to see something vaguely similar in his elderly features.

Then he snapped his head around as he heard the doors to the locker room open, and out stepped Yuri Plisetsky.

Otabek swallowed, eyes widening at the sight of Yuri right in front of him. He hadn’t changed much, his hair was perhaps a lighter blonde than Otabek last remembered it, but Yuri was still lean but muscular, his face still set in vulgar defiance, still radiant on the ice. While older skaters and their choreographers only paid Yuri partially no mind, younger skaters moved from his way and gawked as he slid across the ice. Yuri somehow always commanded that kind of regal presence.

Otabek, however, was fully prepared to skate away, but then their eyes met. The corners of Yuri’s lips shifted into a warm smile that Otabek would have been helpless to ignore, were it not for the fact that in that exact moment, a hand grabbed and tugged at his elbow. He turned his head to see Dana gesturing toward their coach, who was exasperatedly gesturing for him to get off the ice.

“Time for Lunch, Otabek!” Arman said from their coach’s side.

Otabek left the rink and when he turned to look, Yuri’s back was facing him. He was leaning against the wall in uncharacteristically quiet conversation with Victor and Yakov. He turned back around and allowed his rink mates to drag him out to eat.

 

* * *

 

 

Several hours later, Otabek stepped back through the doors into the lobby of the hotel, laughing hard at a story Arman and Dana were telling from their Grand Prix performance in America. He was looking over at the two of them when he walked right into another person, and immediately began to apologize before he looked up and the words got stuck in his throat.

“Sorry, Beka!” Yuri said, taking a step back.

“Yeah, sorry too.” Otabek replied after a moment. Yuri was being followed closely behind by Katsuki and Victor, who stopped just short of walking into Yuri’s back. The six of them all exchanged awkward and silent looks before Yuri was the one to break the silence.

“Beka. Come walk with me. And you two geezers!” he rounded on Katsuki and Victor, “Don’t you dare fucking follow!”

Otabek almost laughed, falling easily into how amused he was by Yuri’s relationship with the elder two men. Victor just shrugged and pulled Katsuki along, announcing to the lobby of the hotel that they were headed to eat dinner, if anyone would like to join.

Yuri watched the two walk away and then led Otabek back out the door in the opposite direction, the two sets of eyes belonging to his friends burning uncomfortably into his back. Otabek was severely underprepared for any kind of in-person dealings with Yuri, and it began painfully awkward and silent.

“Yuri-”

“Tell me how you’re doing.” Yuri said into the evening air. Otabek cleared his throat and stared straight ahead of him.

“I’m doing well. How are you?” He responded tentatively.

“I’m ready to take the gold on Thursday, if that’s what you’re asking.” Yuri smirked in response.

“How disappointing. I’m also ready to take the gold.” Otabek smiled in spite of himself, easily falling into their banter. The conversation took off which made him simultaneously thankful that they could fall so easily into this pre-competition ritual and uneasy at how good the familiarity made him feel.

After about an hour, as the sun was starting to set, Otabek felt his phone go off in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw that he had a text, which simply read

 

 _19:43 Arman Ivanov  
_ _Are you alright?_

 

He looked back up to Yuri. “It’s my friend, Arman. He wants to know if I’m okay,” Otabek informed Yuri before looking back down to his phone to reply. As he hit send to a text that just said “Yeah, I’m fine.” Gentle and long fingers curled around Otabek’s wrist.

“I’m sorry, Beka. I probably shouldn’t have dragged you out with me.” Yuri said sincerely. Otabek started to pull out from under Yuri’s grasp but stopped himself. Yuri caught on anyway and let go.

“Yura. It’s alright. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t really want to.” He admitted. _I’ve missed you every day since I left St. Petersburg. I stared at my phone hoping you’d text me back that day several weeks ago. My resolve shattered here tonight._

“I don’t want to be strangers anymore.” Otabek said into the silence, hoping that those words could convey everything else he wanted to say, but ultimately didn’t. _I still love you._

Whether or not Yuri knew what affect he’d have on Otabek when he smiled widely and threw his arms around Otabek’s neck would never be clear. All he knew was that, in the moment he returned Yuri’s hug, he _almost_ wished he hadn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the ending feels a little rushed...  
> It's probably because it is.  
> My job is super inconsistent and so sometimes I have LOTS OF TIME OFF and sometimes I have time to go to bed then wake up and do it all over again for the rest of eternity.  
> Sorry.  
> (For the heart ache and the quality of my writing)  
> Additionally, I'm really fond of Arman.


	4. After a Long Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek pretends that he's not hyper aware of his own feelings, and everyone else's.

It was a little bit daunting to Otabek; how easily he and Yuri fell back into an effortless friendship. It started slow with sporadic texting that started and ended with how their day was going and an occasional brief skype call at the end of the week. Gradually, though, with the help of the GPF line up after the results from The Rostelecom Cup and Yuri’s newfound love for iFunny (and the onslaught of ridiculous memes that came with it), the conversations became longer and more frequent and the skype calls happened every other day or so. 

Otabek’s friends and family were visibly weary of Yuri’s sudden reappearance in Otabek’s life, though no one ever explicitly said so. 

It was Arman who finally said something one day during a lunch break, just weeks away from the Grand Prix Final. Out of all of Otabek’s rinkmates who competed in the Grand Prix, he, Arman, and Dana were the only ones who made it to the Final. With the Olympic qualifications quickly approaching, that left most of the rest of his rink mates working on new material, or working hard on upcoming, separate competitions. Since he was retiring, he wasn’t concerned with much past the GPF.

“Otabek, good work out there.” He said through a mouthful of sandwich he’d brought from home. 

“Thanks, man. You too.” Otabek looked up from scrolling through Facebook to smile at Arman, who was watching him with careful eyes. “Do I have something on my face?” Otabek set his phone down to wipe at his mouth. 

“No!” Arman laughed, “I was just noticing that you seem to be in better spirits lately.” 

Otabek shrugged. “I suppose? I took gold in Japan and I’m working hard to take gold in the GPF. What’s not to be excited about?” He was nonchalant about answering the question, but Otabek knew that the Arman was likely referencing Yuri. As if on cue, Otabek’s phone lit up with a snapchat update from Yura. The two of them looked down at his phone then looked up and their eyes met. Arman raised an eyebrow. Otabek snatched his phone up and locked the screen black once more. 

“Otabek…” Arman started. 

“I know what you’re going to say. I can feel you guys thinking it.” He gestured widely to the room where his other rink mates were sitting, eating lunch and having idle conversation. “No one says anything out loud, but my family thinks it too. But I promise, It’s  _ fine. _ ” 

“We just don’t want to see you hurt again, Otabek. That’s all.”

Otabek took a shallow breath and considered his friend’s words. In all honesty, he’d had that thought himself. But, if he was being completely honest with himself, he was glad he and Yuri talked regularly again. He felt less sad, and less hollow. He’d never admit that part aloud to anyone though. 

“I know.” He settled on. “I appreciate your concern. I promise it’s fine.” He said with finality. 

Arman studied him a moment longer, making Otabek feel small under his gaze, before he finally offered a slight nod in return. “If he hurts you again, though,” he started with a sense of finality, “I’ll make him wish he hadn’t.” He returned to his lunch without another word and Otabek looked down to the phone in his hand, which had vibrated a second time during his exchange with Arman. Another snapchat from Yura. He swiped the notification and unlocked his phone to look at the snap. 

He tapped the red squared to see Yuri making a face resembling something between bemusement and disgust, his eyes turned to the ceiling. Katsuki and Victor were in the background, doing nothing more than what appeared to be talking over the wall at the rink he recognized was Yuri’s rink in St. Petersburg. The caption read 

 

_ Katsudon wanted to skate for fun and now everyone is waiting eagerly to watch _

 

Otabek tapped to the next snap, which was just a video of Katsuki skating. The emoji in the top left corner of the screen was rolling its eyes. 

Otabek watched the video in full, with a small smile on his lips. While Yura would never admit that he secretly idolized Katsuki, Otabek had no qualms with expressing his appreciation for Katsuki’s art. It was, after all, his step sequences that Otabek tried to emulate in his own routines. But Katsuki was a graceful skater, where Otabek’s routines were always abrasive and intense in nature. His step sequences always lacked that lithe charm.

“Who sent you that video of Katsuki Yuuri skating?! Is that a recent video!?” A voice startled Otabek from behind. He turned to see one of the junior skating competitors, Maxim, eyeing the phone in Otabek’s hand with wonder. Otabek tapped and held the snapchat to play it again.

“My friend in Russia sent it to me.” He said to Maxim, “It was taken just a few minutes ago, do you wanna watch it?” Maxim nodded excitedly. Arman, Dana, and a couple other skaters gradually inched closer to all crowd around the small screen, as well. He tapped the video again and they watched. 

When the video finished, Maxim awed loudly and begged Otabek to show him any more videos if his friend sent anymore. “Especially if it’s Victor Nikiforov! I’d give my fingers to see him skate live again!” Otabek only laughed.

“Yuri sent you that video, did he?” Dana asked tersely, but scooted away back to her girlfriends before Otabek could answer or defend himself. Otabek held up the phone to take a picture of his empty rink.

 

_ We’re on lunch here. You’ll be so pleased to know that Katsuki is still a celebrity.  Everyone here wants more videos of him and Victor. _

 

Otabek added a smirking emoji to the end of the text and sent it. 

Yuri almost immediately snapped him back. The picture Yuri sent, with his eyes focused on something behind the phone and his cheek in his hand with the ghost of a smirk on the edges of his lips, made him look like the petulant 15 year old that Otabek had fallen in love with all those years ago. 

_ Everyone there can suck my dick _

 

And the emoji next to the text was still rolling its eyes. 

Otabek stared at the text and Yuri’s face until the time on the snap ran out. He glanced up to see that lunchtime was at an end and everyone was beginning to return to the ice. Otabek decided against responding to Yuri, and instead tossed his phone back in the duffle bag and headed back out onto the ice.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Otabek left practice that afternoon and returned to his phone with 2 text messages from his sister, 3 snapchats from Yuri, and an email from one of his buddies that, by the subject of the email, looked like a DJ-ing opportunity. 

He opened the email first and read through it. It was indeed a DJing opportunity, but he was still hesitant to take too many jobs with the GPF so close. He decided he’d consider it and reply to the email later, maybe after dinner. 

The first text message from Mahra was an article about the GPF, and the author’s prediction of who’d land on which podium. Otabek skimmed the page, seeing that this particular person expected no better than a Silver medal from him. The second text was some sort of meme or another that he was pretty sure Yuri had already sent him. He shot back a quick text,  _ “I win the gold over Yuri in Japan and they still expect me to lose to him in the final. Smh.” _

He hopped on his motorcycle and drove home before he opened his snapchats from Yuri. The first one was just a video of half his face, rolling his eyes while Victor and Katsuki seemed to be having idle conversation behind him. The second and third snaps were a video of Victor skating. It amazed Otabek how graceful and skilled he still was, even after all this time. The caption on the second video read 

_Show_ this _to everyone there._

 

The emoji after the text was smirking with a side glance. It wasn’t until the last second of the video when he understood why.

The screen returned to the white page of opened snapchats and Otabek double tapped Yuri’s name. He held the camera up to take a picture of his coffee table, where he’d set his meager dinner down on. 

 

_ I’m not gonna crush the souls of children by showing them a Victor Nikiforov that over rotates his signature jump. _

 

He sent the snap with a cross armed emoji and set down the phone down to start his meal.

Seconds later, as if Yuri was anticipating his response, another snapchat appeared. Otabek opened it with a mouthful of mac and cheese. It was a picture of Katsuki and Victor talking to, who Otabek could only assume was, one of their students. The image was only accompanied with the emoji rolling his eyes next to the middle finger emoji. Otabek wondered if the emoji cursed to roll his eyes forever was the one Yuri used the most. 

He set his face to reflect a pensive expression and took a picture before typing the caption

 

_ If it bothers you that much, you could always send me videos of you skating :p I’d rather see you skate anyway. _

 

He nearly sent that snap, before he thought better of it and decided to delete the second sentence.

Yuri’s response came mere seconds later, and it came in the form of a Skype call. 

“You only want me to send you videos of my skating so that you know how well I’m doing to beat me in the GPF.” He said without preamble, a wide smile on his face. 

Otabek shrugged nonchalantly. That was certainly not the reason he wanted to see Yuri skate. “That may be true,” he said anyway, “I’m pretty confident that I can beat you without handicap, though.” he huffed a laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Too bad you’re retiring.” He shot back, and Otabek looked hard at Yuri for a moment too long, the silence stretched a quarter of a heartbeat too long. “Oh shit. I’m... sorry. Beka. I’m sorry.” 

“What for? Stating a fact?” Otabek waved a hand, though he knew Yuri couldn’t see it. Privately, however, his chest ached. It was never verbally addressed between the two of them, but many people still assumed Otabek’s decision to retire was influenced by their breakup. And even though Otabek knew that Yuri knew that he’d been considering it since long before they broke up, he wondered if Yuri still privately shouldered some blame. Kazakh skaters and fans certainly blamed Yuri. 

“True.” Yuri said thoughtfully. “I’m going to try to qualify for the Olympics this year.” He added after a silent moment. 

Otabek could feel his eyes grow wider as the realization hit, “What?! That’s awesome, Yura!” 

“You really think so?” Yuri said, his eyes conveying something like surprise.

“Obviously! You, of anyone I know, have the drive to make it all the way.” Otabek said sincerely. “I support you 100%.” He added. Otabek would always support Yuri. 

“Well, yeah. I- Thanks.” Yuri shifted, causing the image to blur some. When it refocused, Yuri was smiling, and Otabek felt his heart flutter at the sight. It was the kind of smile Yuri used to reserve only when they’d had a moment, and Otabek dared to fancy that they’d just had a moment. 

They talked on the phone for another hour or so, in that time Yuri had finished at the rink, said goodbye to Yakov, driven home and eaten dinner, before Yuri decided that he needed to get to bed. Otabek noticed passively how Yuri had been at the rink until very late.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, Beka! Have a good night.” He said.

“Sleep well, Yura.”

Yuri was the first to hang up, flashing a peace sign as he did so. Otabek put the phone on the charger and went straight to bed, trying very hard not to think of how he caught himself just before he said “I love you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merp I work a full time job  
> and I also suffer from chronic writer's block


End file.
